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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713216">Only a period of hiding</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searofyr/pseuds/Searofyr'>Searofyr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Isles and Empires [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls: Blades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Romance, Shivering Isles (Elder Scrolls), Town-building</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:34:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searofyr/pseuds/Searofyr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Journal of Soryen Drals, Blades agent. Cyrodiil, Oblivion 4E.</p><p>A Blades agent on the run decides to hide in his hometown, only to find he has to rebuild it instead. Help comes from a former hero of the Empire and now Daedric Prince of Madness in the middle of an identity crisis.</p><p>Loosely follows the early parts of The Elder Scrolls: Blades until it goes off-track.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Original Male Character(s), Original Male Dunmer Character(s)/Original Male Imperial Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Isles and Empires [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>I wonder what my ancestors would make of me running back home to hide when things got bad.</p><p>It’s not done in our family. The first set that left Morrowind independently to settle in Cyrodiil stayed out of Morrowind, founded a new House (despite being heretical many times over even for the time), and since then, everyone that got added to or born into the family has been in Cyrodiil: When things get dicey, we either stick it out where we are, or we move on to a whole new place. We don’t slink to our childhood town with our tails between our legs.</p><p>Until me, that is.</p><p>I’ll have to make up for this somehow.</p><p> </p><p>At least it’s still Cyrodiil, close to the border as it is.</p><p>But my ancestors will be watching. Even if they told their descendants not to summon them from where they’d be going; we’d meet them when it was our time. </p><p>There seemed to be more of a necessity for hiding for them, back in the Second Era, and their hack-theological excuse for their shift in worship (do excuse me, but you know it’s true) must’ve fooled precisely no one. (A child of Sithis, and co-embodiment of his principles, in a certain way, under a certain light, kind of, probably? Come on.) It’s how they told it too, in their journals and letters to their descendants. The Brotherhood let them get away with it in the end, though they were excised, and so there was a new tradition for a new House. But heretics they were, everywhere.</p><p>I’m sure generations in between thought in Cyrodiil one could be more open about it all.</p><p>And now here we are.</p><p> </p><p>And there I was protecting the Empire and then fighting the Thalmor for the principle of it because that’s the kind of thing you get into your head when you’re young, and suddenly some decades have passed, and you’re in way too deep, and then you’re on the run.</p><p>Sure, their ire is concentrated on Talos worship these days, no one takes a few stray worshippers of a dead god seriously, but they <em>really</em> don’t like that dead god anyway. And those that manage to look a little closer <em>really</em> wish the thing about him being dead was true.</p><p> </p><p>But none of that matters now. That’s my rambling. I’m not accomplishing anything, I’m not aiming at anything but my own safety, and I’m trying to justify my own cowardice in front of courageous ancestors.</p><p> </p><p>They said more in their dispatches to their descendants. It’s not as long ago as one might think; befriending Telvanni wizards makes you long-lived, if not immortal.</p><p>Tedare was it that wrote, “If you’re going to desert, be sure to be as smart about it as you can, and then still assume you’re being a bumbling idiot, because that’s how badly things will go no matter how much of a well-prepared genius you think you are. Hold on to your pessimism at all times, and be on the lookout at all times. And now think again: Can you go without deserting? Slowly move away, bit by bit, unseen, unnoticed, get people used to your idiosyncrasies until you’re effectively out of their reach? Or do you need the hard cut? If you do, be decisive, and don’t look back. Building up burnt bridges behind you is a fool’s errand.”</p><p> </p><p>What is it I’m doing? Am I deserting? Perhaps not. No, I can’t. The fucking cause is still burnt into my fucking heart, and is determined to stay.</p><p>So a small diversion, going into hiding like any good agent would do. Recover, let time pass. Then get ready to strike again. Maybe.</p><p>No good to be caught and exposed, and have secrets wrung out of me, right? No good for the entire organisation. So hiding it is, as long as it takes. If this period takes too long, and age catches up to me before duty does, and retirement comes earlier than a chance to get back into the fray, well, then that’s just life, isn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>Lorkhan, forgive me.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The ancestors' story is here:<br/>"How to face death" - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30826205/chapters/76099643</p><p>My friend's story of her character Seselia (who'll show up here later) is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295693/chapters/58564675<br/>"Saga of a Talos Worshipping Shield-Maiden" by HircinesHuntingGround.<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s gone. My hands are shaking like they haven’t in years. So I had some attachment to the place left after all. Besides as a refuge, I mean.</p><p>So much for that. My old hometown has been attacked by mercenaries in service of the Bloodfall Queen and burnt to the ground. This is what happens when you appoint Orcs as regents over a region.</p><p>Met old Junius in the skeleton of the town, and he even recognised me.</p><p>I told him I’d been with the Imperial army. Close enough.</p><p>My family didn’t make it. I’ll need a while.</p><p> </p><p>No, go on, write now. Then grieve. Our old house is nothing but ashes. I could salvage a few items, my old favourite stone cup, my ancestors’ set of enchanted daggers, my mother’s gems with the surrounding jewellery melted down (what kind of fire was this anyway?), and I was lucky enough to arrive here before anyone could be bothered to start the plundering. It’ll happen. It always happens.</p><p>Junius was kind enough to help with retrieval and offered to help with the rites, too.</p><p>I hesitated.</p><p>He muttered under his breath, “I know.”</p><p>Can’t trust that yet. Easiest bluff there is.</p><p>He added, “The Thalmor have other things to do at this time, and I certainly won’t tell. We have to stick together now.”</p><p>So he did know. In the end I agreed.</p><p>It was rites without a burial. There had already been a mass funeral, done by the few strong-enough men left in town. A pyre, cause there hadn’t been enough fire yet, or maybe cause there was still one on, and why waste labour – but I’m being unfair. You had to be strong in more than just your arms and back to do this. I’m still not entirely sure if I’m sorry or glad I wasn’t there in time. Both maybe. Who wants to carry their parents’ charred corpses through the town to a funeral pyre, to join those of old acquaintances? (Only acquaintances at least. I have no friends left. I had some once, but we all lost touch. By which I mean I stopped writing and coming around, cause that’s what happens.)</p><p> </p><p>So we went to where the pyre was, and did the more personal rites.</p><p>He asked me if ‘my people’ still kept fingerbones and apologised for not thinking of that if we did.</p><p>I told him it was good that he hadn’t; my House has a strict no-summoning-your-ancestors policy. We’re eccentric like that.</p><p>“Ah,” he said, “then all is well.”</p><p>I suppose, in a way, for the moment, it was.</p><p> </p><p>His house got it, too, so he’s staying at someone else’s. Someone who won’t be needing it anymore. He suggested I do the same, and we’d find me a place to stay tomorrow morning. And talked about rebuilding.</p><p>I didn’t say that it was madness to want to rebuild all this, mainly because I’m now indebted to him for the kindness, and also because I was too tired for anything.</p><p> </p><p>There, I’ve written it down. Now I can sleep. Maybe.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was scrambled-together breakfast, and there are few times in life when that can be this good. This was one of those times.</p><p>Then we found me a house. Meaning, about a third of the lower level of a former house, and we had someone help take down the stuff that could be a danger to it. It’s something like 2 ½ inn rooms, or very shabby officer’s quarters with half a kitchen, something like that. The former owners are all dead and left no heirs, so it was communally decided this was mine now, provided I agreed to stay and help build up the town.</p><p>I said, “You’re really sure about this, building it up? A whole town?”</p><p>“Of course,” Junius said. “We just needed some fresh help. Someone with a good head on their shoulders, who has seen the world and learned and can organise things. You were in the Imperial army. That’s perfect.”</p><p>I didn’t know what to respond to that, it was so nonsensical. At last, I said the most obvious: “I was a soldier, not an architect.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter, boy, doesn’t matter.”</p><p>I’m 43. But there’s something strangely comforting about meeting someone for whom you’re still the ‘boy’. Eerie, too. I’d tried to separate my past and my present. Now I was back here. And I wasn’t even a soldier.</p><p>One of the Nords on the site said, “If you were in the army, you can lift things. And you know how to organise supplies, right?”</p><p>“Well…” A little. More with the illegal supplies. “I guess I learned some of that. Past enemy lines, yeah.”</p><p>“See? We can use that.”</p><p>“The lifting…” If anyone here remembered me as a kid… “Well, I’ve gotten better at that than in my youth, for sure, but my specialty’s magic. I guess I could levitate things when we need that. You’re not supposed to, but who cares about that when the town needs building up and we’re, what, five people?”</p><p>The Nord snorted. “Dark elves and their magic.” But it didn’t sound hostile.</p><p>Junius looked well pleased. “Very well. Then we can count you in our number. I’m old. I’ll leave the organising to you.”</p><p>“Wait. That’s not what…”</p><p>“Don’t worry. You’ll manage. Say. We’ve been talking. After all that happened here, we want a new start for this town. And we were thinking of a new name for a fresh start. Why don’t you choose one?”</p><p>“Me?” They couldn’t be serious about any of this. But as with my membership of the Blades, it was already too late, and I was already too deep into something without quite knowing how it had come to this. By me not refusing steadfastly enough, most likely. That’s how things always happen.</p><p>“Yes, you. Our new organiser. What do you think? Pick a name.”</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Of course,” he said. “We need to paint the town sign.”</p><p>This couldn’t be serious. But since we were already at it… I remembered I had something to make up to my ancestors. For crawling back home, abandoning my post. And what had happened? That home was a pile of ash now. What would please my ancestors? I went through several options in my head. Then decided their dispatches to their descendants had often had a strange and somewhat biting sense of humour to them. So to make up for coming back here in failure and cowardice, I’d choose the village Tedare had left, back in the day. Hers because a village was better than a well-known city. “Morahvia. How about that?”</p><p>“Morrowind?” Junius asked.</p><p>“Yeah. My ancestor’s home village. Last one there before she came to Cyrodiil. I have something to make up for.” I didn’t elaborate, but with an alleged former soldier, anyone will assume something or other that you have to make up for.</p><p>“A good name then,” Junius said. “Morahvia it is.”</p><p>The others agreed, for some reason.</p><p>We’re going to clean out more buildings, and some townfolk are trapped in places and need rescuing.</p><p>What the fuck have I gotten myself into?</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How did so much time pass so quickly? Easily, it turns out, when you’re always too exhausted to think straight at the end of the day.</p><p>We’re more now, and the town’s… not shaping up quite. It’s still a pile of rubble, but a growing and more habitable pile of rubble. We’re getting there.</p><p> </p><p>So I met someone.</p><p>Not that kind of ‘met someone’; that never ends well and has been a long time anyway. No. An interesting acquaintance. We’ve been chatting on and off.</p><p>Looking a little Breton on the surface but with distinct Imperial features. White hair, except the one time he had it light green. Calls himself ‘Theodor Gorlash’. As if that wasn’t telling enough, he talks in paradoxes and references that probably only he knows the meaning of, talks about madness, takes time as pointlessly linear and restrictive, and let on to knowing about me and the Blades, and me being on the run from the Thalmor.</p><p>Now, maybe to the locals that’s obscure, but I <em>am</em> still Dunmer-raised, Imperialised as we might’ve been. When he said something about madness again and I had enough, I asked, “And you wouldn’t be, say, a Prince for that sort of thing, would you?”</p><p>He gave me a big grin. “Caught me! And I was being so subtle.”</p><p>“To the local Nords maybe.”</p><p>He looked just thrilled.</p><p>“So… Can I ask you to spare me, does that work?”</p><p>“Oh I’m not here for you. Well, I am. But not like that. Let’s see. You have ancestors you listen to. The…” He made a dramatic pause. “…assassins? An important lady ancestor. Right? Lady Tedare?”</p><p>“So you know about that.”</p><p>“I know everything!”</p><p>Perhaps he does, at that. “And… Wait, don’t tell me you got them.”</p><p>“No, no. <em>Someone</em> just can’t lose, and takes all his favourites for himself. You included. Now you’ve interrupted my image.”</p><p>“Alright, what’s your image?”</p><p>“The image,” he said. “You Dunmer, you listen to what your ancestors tell you. Most of the time. Right? Imagine… I had an important lady ancestor, too. And she was <em>really</em> particular about this region, and got <em>really</em> upset about what was happening here.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“And she took me aside and said, I know you’re terribly important now, and that’s all very well, but you know, the Dunmer have a custom of listening to their ancestors. Now you listen to your ancestor, and help.”</p><p>I had no idea what to make of this.</p><p>“Baffled, are you? Now what if… she <em>also</em> said, My god and your predecessor used to cooperate a lot, especially when either of your people needed help, and especially when it came to saving Nirn, or the Empire. And sometimes just for personal things. You should pick up that habit. It was good for everyone.”</p><p>Of course that made it <em>much</em> clearer.</p><p>“And imagine,” he went on, “that her god that she referred to was also your god.”</p><p>“So you know about that, too. Wait. You know everything. Right.”</p><p>“See? It’s all logical! Of course… there can’t be an ancestor like that. Or can there?”</p><p>Previous conversations, cryptic as they’d been, had always had hints and kernels of deeper truths to them, no matter the paradoxical trappings. And so I somehow didn’t think this was all for nothing. “Can there?” I asked.</p><p>He gave me a big grin. “There can! See, I like you! You think in possibilities! Now you know she gets things done when her and her husband get them to install a wine cellar in a mead hall. Better listen to that kind of woman, right?”</p><p>By then I was convinced he was serious, in whatever way it could be. “Right. And in your image, Sovngarde includes a wine cellar now.”</p><p>“It does! So here I am. Helping you. And you, in turn… Oh, I won’t spoil it all.”</p><p> </p><p>He then proceeded to offer me to change my looks or my gender.</p><p>“I don’t know about gender,” I said. “Well, women of my kind are more popular than men, but…”</p><p>“Ha. No, you just don’t know what you’re doing.”</p><p>“Brutal, but true.”</p><p>“Right? So don’t do it. You’d regret it.”</p><p>I snorted. “But you offered anyway.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Can’t help it sometimes. Looks?”</p><p>“Of course you know about that, too.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>I’m ashamed to say I actually thought about it. I know I don’t look outright terrible, but I know I’m no classic beauty either, any way you cut it. And it’s always bothered me. And I’d always wished it was different. Now here was my chance… and I eventually said no.</p><p>“No? Then how about removing that tattoo of yours? Might get a little dangerous.”</p><p>My facial tattoo. One of my ancestors’ journals had had the design of a sort of rope-like snake tattoo they and their Telvanni friends all had on their hands and wrists, matching pairs. Some connection to Lorkhan. When it came to the inevitable proof of courage (or rather idiocy) when joining the Blades, I chose that, and since it was late at night, and I wanted to be bold, I made it a swirl on both sides of my face, from the eyes outwards and downwards. The same rope-snake. Said it was for my birth sign.</p><p>One of my companions frowned in his flin haze and asked, “For the Warrior?”</p><p>“No, not the Warrior,” I said.</p><p>At last they got it, and from then on everyone in the set knew I was born under the Serpent sign. That was begun to be seen as so inauspicious that it was deemed a good proof of courage, and so I got my rope-serpent tattoo on my face. In white, because it looked most interesting and eerie on parchment. Hurt so much I kept drinking through the procedure until I passed out and the artist finished while I was out. Which was a good thing. Didn’t screw me over either; the end result was a beautiful set of white rope-snakes, nothing more and nothing less. The other result was that I swore to myself I’d get good at healing magic.</p><p>I’m still not good at healing magic. But I’ll keep trying.</p><p>Tangent.</p><p> </p><p>I thought about that tangent then, and of course Sheogorath picked up on it.</p><p>Smiled at me. “You’re never getting rid of that one, are you?”</p><p>I gritted my teeth and had to smile then. “Never.”</p><p>“Alright. You’ll do.” He didn’t further specify. “Now here’s a hint. You want to clean up the house.”</p><p> </p><p>Call me mad (even though he said he wasn’t here for that, but maybe he doesn’t need to try), but I went home and cleaned the third of the ground floor of the house. Just in case.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Well damn it, he was right. (Of course he’s right. He knows everything. That’s how this works, right?)</p><p>Who shows up in town just the next day? My old friend Seselia. From childhood and youth days. Before my brief stint in the army and then all the rest.</p><p>She came back home, too. Also to find, well, this. Not much of a home. And a new name, too. Sorry about that, Seselia.</p><p>But she seemed happy enough that our old mentor is still here. Henrik Seven-Swords. Well, really more <em>her</em> mentor, and I got dragged along at some point to learn to defend myself and stand up straight and handle a weapon. Sometimes you have to. Axes aren’t so bad for some reason.</p><p>In any case, she still hasn’t gotten over that. I’m one of the worse people I know to go to for <em>that</em> kind of advice, but something needs to be done here. This is ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>In any case, she brought mead, and I won’t say no to that, and she lives in my bit of a house with me now, and the mead is pretty diminished. And I talked too much. Damn it. I mean, so did she. But her secrets are less dangerous.</p><p>Can’t be helped now. At least I kept it at vague hints about extracurricular activities in the army, nothing further.</p><p> </p><p>I feel wretched. Why did I agree to work today? This was a mistake.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Junius said we should get a workshop for decorations going.</p><p><em>Decorations</em>.</p><p>We don’t even have a proper baker yet, and he wants decorations.</p><p>If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect <em>him</em> of being the Prince of Madness around here.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, somehow the day passed by. Incredibly slowly.</p><p>Came home, and wouldn’t you know, it felt empty. That’s one day of having an old friend back, and the house that isn’t even a proper house feels empty.</p><p>Said friend was off training her skills with assorted weapons with sharp edges, cause a great and accomplished shieldmaiden like her would of <em>course</em> need catch-up lessons from a small-town instructor. Right. Very credible.</p><p> </p><p>So I left again. Wandered out to the main gate, where there’s still a lot of rubble and space for a decorations workshop. Abandoned at most times of the day, but especially now in the dark. It’s also where my friend ‘Theodor’ likes to loiter. Somehow I needed the company.</p><p>And somehow, ‘Theodor’ looked entirely unsurprised at my arrival. Well. He knows everything.</p><p>I thanked him for the hint about cleaning the house, we exchanged some words in paradox, same old, then I got myself to get serious.</p><p>“I have to ask after all,” I said. “What did you mean yesterday when you said I’d do? After I turned down your uh, generous offer of changing my looks and everything. Was that some sort of test?”</p><p>His smile was first wolfish, and then surprisingly mild. And of course, he didn’t answer in an actual answer. He pointed at me. “These are trappings. You know that, and I know that.” Pointed at himself. “Same as these. Also trappings. Perhaps that’s not how I look. Perhaps…” And in front of my very eyes, he turned younger and lost his beard and intensified the sharp Imperial features that had been only a nuance before.</p><p>I stared. Then I looked around.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry; nobody sees us,” he said, in a different voice. Let me repeat that. A different voice. And a different accent.</p><p>He was right. Nobody but us was around. But that wasn’t the issue now. “Say something else,” I said.</p><p>He grinned. “The voice?”</p><p>“The accent. The voice, too, but…”</p><p>“The accent? Like it? Fits the region, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“No doubt about it,” I said, “Nibenese. Are you doing this to put me at ease somehow?”</p><p>“Myself, mostly. Fits the look, too, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“It does,” I said. “Well, you always looked somewhat Imperial.”</p><p>“Did I? What a coincidence!”</p><p>I couldn’t help but stare.</p><p>While I did that, he turned his hair light green again.</p><p>“And this? You’ve done that before, once. Fashion in your realm?”</p><p>“Not before I brought it,” he said. “There’s an alchemist in Cheydinhal that makes this paste that does it. Horecia. Ah, but that was long ago. Anyway, I picked it up. You like it?”</p><p>“I think I do. Not for myself, though, in case you’re asking.”</p><p>“No, that wouldn’t work. You’re better off dark and brooding.”</p><p>I blinked at that. “If you say so.” Then I wondered if there had been a point to this whole tangent at all. There probably was. I decided to ask. “There was a point to this, wasn’t there? You don’t do or say things for no reason.”</p><p>“I do sometimes,” he said. “It’s expected of me. Ah, but that’s a reason.”</p><p>I had to laugh.</p><p>He pointed at me. “You’re laughing. You should do that more often. Anyway. I don’t as much with you anymore cause you expect better of me now. Self-fulfilling prophecy. That’s how it goes with the divine. Trappings, too, in a way. Everything is trappings. Or is it?”</p><p>Reasons or no, it can be difficult to keep up with him.</p><p>He went on undeterred: “But most mortals aren’t made to be immortal, leave alone divine. And sure you have a core, but you should hold on to those trappings like you should hold on to your soul. Or you can give it to me; I won’t say no to that.”</p><p>I snorted. “Already spoken for, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“That’s what they all say. No, no, I’ll leave you as you are. A courtesy. Though I should be mad at your god, but it’s like family. Can’t let go of them, so there’s no use hanging on to grudges. I’ll play nice with you.”</p><p>If only I had any idea what he was talking about.</p><p>“So,” he said, “keep your looks. Keep the rest, too. Doesn’t help you to give it up. Defend your self. You know that, deep down. And that’s why you’ll do.” He reached for my face and touched the serpentine tattoo. “Take the example of the first one to put these on.”</p><p>I frowned. “Lothryn of House Telvanni?”</p><p>“Just so. You’d like him. Almost as negative as you are. Modest on the surface, self-deprecating even. But,” he pointed at my chest, “here,” pointed at my forehead, “and here, a pride of his self that rivals a god’s. Even some of the most pompous of them. Wouldn’t even let his much more glamorous former self get in his way.”</p><p>“Former self? That some Telvanni nonsense?”</p><p>“Ha! No, just the one. The self before he reincarnated.”</p><p>What nonsense was this now? Some obligatory Mad God lines? “I only know of one Telvanni wizard who was said to be a reincarnation, and…” And there I stopped. “Oh don’t tell me.”</p><p>“You got it.”</p><p>“<em>That</em> Lothryn of House Telvanni? The Nerevarine? My ancestors’ friend? Come on.”</p><p>“Just the one. And before you ask, of course they wouldn’t have said anything. Once they knew anyway. It was a secret until it wasn’t anymore.”</p><p>I felt dizzy. “So…” Where was the point to all this again?</p><p>He grinned. “The point is that the one who started those tattoos you absolutely won’t give up on <em>also</em> wouldn’t give up on his <em>self</em>, not even in favour of being ‘Lord Nerevar’ again. And you need that same sense of self if you want to play.”</p><p>If I wanted to play? Play what? “<em>Do</em> I want to play?”</p><p>“I think you do. Anyway. That’s what your god demands of those he picks for, oh I’m spoiling things again.”</p><p>I’m constantly put out of my depth in these conversations. Why do I keep coming back? Or so I mused, and wondered if there wasn’t something I could add of my own. Pointed at him. “So, which uh, trappings are you defending? These or the other ones?”</p><p>His smile looked almost wistful. “None of them. That’s why I’m myself. That’s for mortals. Anyway. You shouldn’t worry so much. You’re just young.”</p><p>“Not that young.”</p><p>“For a Dark Elf. You’re not supposed to be too young. Wait it out, you’re a mage. In, oh, two, three hundred years, no one will care that your features could be more regular or you could look healthier or any of that, they’ll be caught up in your dark and brooding and mysterious aura.”</p><p>I snorted. “I don’t know about that.”</p><p>“But I know.”</p><p>“Right, you know everything.” I was very unconvinced.</p><p>“Want to bet?”</p><p>“You’re serious.” I gathered my wits, or what was left of them anyway. “But I’m not making bets with you. That never ends well.”</p><p>“Ah, too bad. One with sense.”</p><p> </p><p>We fell silent. I looked around. Still empty. Dark except for small lights, quiet except for some nocturnal bugs. New. Not so bad. “You should defend your self, too,” I heard myself say. “It’d be a shame if you didn’t.”</p><p>Silence. Didn’t get that reaction from him often. Ever. Then, “Should I?”</p><p>“Yeah,” I heard myself continue. “Who’s expecting anything anyway? Isn’t that what a Prince does, be himself? That’s your first job, if I understood it correctly. Of course my parents were heretics like the rest of the family. But…”</p><p>There was a laugh, much quieter than normal. “Maybe. You’re an interesting one. But you should go home now.”</p><p>“You’re dismissing me? Why now? Too close to home?”</p><p>“Maybe I want to think. Or maybe I want to look at the mushrooms in Mania. Ah, I’ll cut the needless talk here. Go home. I’ll be back.”</p><p>I didn’t like it. Don’t ask me why. Perhaps it’s just that I don’t like to be dismissed.</p><p>“Tomorrow,” he said. “By the way. Your Elder is right. This town needs decoration. It’s too drab.”</p><p>“Well, it did just get burned to the ground. And had a mass funeral not long ago.”</p><p>“That’s no excuse for this lack of colour.”</p><p>I remembered some things I’d learned from my parents, and some things I’d read. And what he’d just said. And the green hair. “Mania, huh.”</p><p>He grinned at me. “My favouritism shows. Much to the chagrin of half my realm and some who think I should keep a better balance or appearance of neutrality. Can’t help it. Anyway. Plant some trees. It’d look nicer.”</p><p>“Trees. Fine. I’ll bring that up tomorrow.”</p><p>He held out his hand.</p><p>Confused, I took it.</p><p>He shook my hand in mock earnestness. “We have a deal.”</p><p>“A deal? Trees? And what’s your end?”</p><p>He let go and vanished in front of my eyes.</p><p>Daedra.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Junius was happy with the tree idea. I’m glad we’ve all got our priorities straight here. And I’m no better.</p><p>We did the usual hard work, and the day dragged on again, cause I was tired as could be.</p><p>Didn’t get much sleep last night. Kept thinking back to that strange conversation.</p><p>Kept wanting to continue it, too. Guess I really am going mad.</p><p> </p><p>Of course people saw I was tired and worn-out and distracted.</p><p>They sent me home and off of the construction site earlier than usual today, and I didn’t want to show how grateful I was for that, but I probably did anyway. I was completely exhausted, and then magic can be the opposite of helpful, even if you’re used to exhaustion.</p><p> </p><p>Should have gone straight home and slept, but didn’t. I had an appointment. So I went to the main gate to find ‘Theodor’, who was of course waiting for me. Knew when I’d be off because… Well, you know.</p><p>We had a little chat, and then Atticus from the construction site showed up and asked, “Who are you talking to?”</p><p>“That’s my friend Theodor,” I started saying, and I saw his look. His very doubtful look. A look of benevolent concern.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>I fell silent.</p><p>“You need to get home,” he said. “And don’t bother showing up tomorrow. I’ll let those slave drivers know you need rest. Come now. Off to bed. And don’t drink too much. I do that, too, to unwind, but trust me, the last thing you need now is ale.”</p><p>Well, damn it.</p><p>I promised I’d go straight home.</p><p>He nodded, still with that concerned look, and went on.</p><p>I turned to ‘Theodor’. “Could have said something, you know.”</p><p>He grinned at me.</p><p>“Well, I’m supposed to go home now. You coming along? I reckon one ale won’t hurt. Or two.”</p><p>He actually looked hesitant for a moment there.</p><p>“Come on,” I said, “I can’t be seen talking into empty air much longer here. Seselia’s out training again.”</p><p>“Why not?” he said. “An ale or two. Why not?”</p><p> </p><p>It was four in the end. Then he vanished, and now I will sleep.</p><p>And it seems I have tomorrow off. Maybe I’ll sleep. Maybe Seselia will take a day off her harrowing martial training. Maybe I’ll drop by the town gate at night and talk to the air again.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Where do the days go?</p><p> </p><p>Let’s see. Lately…</p><p> </p><p>…Seselia and I have braved a wizard tower for entertainment, and those are some of the friendliest ghosts I’ve ever met. Might come back.</p><p> </p><p>…we’ve rescued people from assorted horrors and small-scale bandits lurking in forests and underground caverns in about equal measure. Also goblins. So many goblins.</p><p> </p><p>…we’ve found out the fire that caused all that destruction here was not set by the bandits at all but was a kind of green unnatural fire that happened when they destroyed the founder statue. Now what bandits would want to destroy a town founder statue for, don’t ask me. They were supposed to wring out money for the ‘Bloodfall Queen’ like the thug she is, and the thugs they are, but what in Oblivion is that supposed to do for that goal? Get people scared? Well congratulations, there are few people left alive to be scared anymore, the few survivors have bigger fears than some thug Orc who thinks she’s royalty now, what with all the monsters and undead around (friendly tower ghosts explicitly excluded), and there’s no money coming in for a long time now, at least decades, till we’ve built this place back up to a semblance of functionality. But good job, a statue is broken. That’ll show them.</p><p> </p><p>…I’d say it’s all fishy, except I think in the end it’s just really stupid.</p><p> </p><p>…I parlayed with the leader of that bandit scum, and she confirmed everyone else’s story and provided some of the background. Normally I would’ve killed her. In my normal capacity. Which I temporarily not-quite-deserted from. (Honest. Town building management is just a short-term occupation that’ll be done in no time at all, and I have every intention to return… right.)</p><p>I almost did kill her. It’s no good leaving dangers alive, and you should never underestimate the danger posed by the stupid ones.</p><p>But at the last moment, I somehow recalled Sheogorath talking about not holding any grudges, against my own god no less – whatever he may have done, he never said. Decided maybe I should follow that advice for once, not start a cycle of revenge for good. They did a thing. I can stop the cycle before it starts by not killing them all. (And no illusion there: I wandered straight into the middle of their camp; if I’d killed their leader, it’d have been all of them next. One, I don’t know if I could’ve made it out alive despite my best fire and lightning spells, but that might’ve been worth it to dispatch a larger threat. Two… ah, fuck it, you know? Just let them go and hope for the best. Maybe someday we’ll meet again, and they’ll remember mercy shown… right.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>…There’s an Ayleid ruin uncovered now, with the statue gone. And some murky business about the founder and so on. Guess who they want to send in.</p><p> </p><p>…For some reason, this is still not reason enough for anyone to want to pack up and leave this place and move on, let someone else stupid deal with Ayleid ghosts and undead.</p><p> </p><p>…A few of us, including Seselia, Atticus and me, petitioned for a brewery and a tavern. How is our town supposed to flourish without that? (And how are we supposed to deal with all this undead and Ayleid business every day without ale at the end of it?) Junius smiled that indulging smile at us like at children but agreed to put it on the list.</p><p> </p><p>…During a lunch break, some townfolk told me in confidence (maybe cause I’m a heretic, and they either know what kind or at least suspect Daedra worship like with normal Dark Elves) that they think this happened to our town as a divine punishment cause of the Thalmor (really the Empire, but behind that really the Thalmor) forbidding Talos worship and them going along. Letting the known worshippers be dragged off.</p><p>I told them I’d been convinced it was punishment for leaving my post and trying to come home. (No need to mention what post; it’s credible enough when they think you’ve been in the army.) So now there was no home anymore. But that lately I’ve been thinking, perhaps gods aren’t all that vengeful, or not all of them.</p><p>The mood was pensive, and it was getting a bit much, and we were all getting fidgety about that, so I added, “I think <em>really</em> this happened cause someone thought it was a good idea to put Orcs on a throne. Who does that?”</p><p>And the mood was back to normal.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don’t want to talk to the Orc queen, why do they want me to talk to the Orc queen? What in the world qualifies me for that?</p><p>I know what it is. They’ve already pushed so much responsibility on me, and I don’t say no clearly enough, and no one else wants to do it, so it’s me again.</p><p>I don’t get it. I don’t have a sunny disposition by any stretch. Why does nobody take me seriously when I don’t want to do a thing? And why do I keep doing it?</p><p>Well, at the very least I’m postponing this ad infinitum.</p><p>If someone else gets impatient, they’re welcome to step in.</p><p> </p><p>I need to complain to a Daedric Prince of my acquaintance. We need more ale.</p><p>And if these meetings continue, I’m going to have to find something to tell Seselia, cause she won’t be out on flimsy excuses every day forever, and it will have to be something better than “This is my imaginary friend.”</p><p>Can you tell a good Nord you’ve been drinking and chatting with the Daedric Prince of Madness in your shared home?</p><p>It occurs to me I should’ve said something earlier.</p><p>It occurs to me this might be something a new cask of ale or mead won’t make up for.</p><p>Damn it all, now I’ll have to say something.</p><p> </p><p>Talking to the Orc queen might be less frightening. At least I don’t respect her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So that didn’t go as terribly as it could have. Having mead around is a good idea and facilitates the logic of things. Seselia’s wary, and who wouldn’t be, but we’re not at disastrous levels yet.</p><p>Now I’ve got to get ‘Theodor’ to agree to meet. And actually show himself.</p><p>Perhaps more mead would be good for that meeting.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>So that also didn’t go as terribly as it could have. Actually it went pretty well. ‘Theodor’ showed up, brought mead from the isles, with this odd floral note, and when it’s hot and steaming, the steam shimmers pink and purple, but it’s strong enough that you can also just suspect yourself of being drunk. Can’t be anything but from the Mania side of things, for sure. Makes me wonder what Dementia drinks would be like, but maybe that discovery can wait.</p><p>Good stuff anyway.</p><p>In any case. ‘Theodor’ called himself just that, skipped on any of the clichés that one might expect when expecting Sheogorath, and came as the somewhat disconcertingly pretty if sharp-faced Imperial, talked that way, too, in what I suspect he in some way considers his true voice and accent, though why, I haven’t figured out yet.</p><p>Made Seselia warier at first cause she was expecting something else. Something I realise even I haven’t seen; the first look was maybe closer to it, but it was always different from the old images.</p><p>It’s like… There’s a new one on the job? But that can’t be. This is me talking crazy again.</p><p>Though on the bad days, his company keeps me sane, and on the <em>really</em> bad days, it brings me back to sanity, ironically enough.</p><p> </p><p>So the mead helped matters along, and ‘Theodor’ was mostly friendly if sometimes confusing as he tends to be, but brought on less cryptic stories and self-evaluations. Probably a good thing. At the same time, I found myself missing them. We need to talk alone again soon.</p><p>So I guess he’s welcome in the house now. This is good. All that hiding was getting tiresome.</p><p> </p><p>We also somehow decided the house needs building up again properly, and expanding. This thing had two stories and an attic once. We can do this.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Slow days. Regular, steady. We work. We talk and drink. We work on other buildings, and we work on our house. We get help, too.</p><p>I mentioned to the crew that Seselia and I wanted to patch up the house and have it more usable than a draughty army camp, and people understood, and after all we’ve done a thing or two for the city. So it’s now one of the projects.</p><p>Regjar winked and nudged me and asked if we had something in the family way planned.</p><p>I said, “Oh please, are you blind? Do I look like her type? Besides, that’d be like taking out my sister at this point.”</p><p>“Come on now, Regjar,” said Atticus, “everyone knows, you never see how she looks at Henrik? What’s up with that anyway? They getting together or what?”</p><p>“I have no idea, honestly,” I said. “They should. Not sure they know how to.”</p><p>“About time,” Atticus said.</p><p>“Yeah. And if I find out he’s not interested and has been stringing her along, I’ll have to zap him with lightning, at the very least, or something worse I’ve learned out there.”</p><p>Regjar snorted. “Every maiden needs a vengeful Dark Elf pal. What about you then? Family would be good for you. I’ve seen guys like you, too long in the army, no life of their own, and that bastard of a war. Need to be put back to the ground is what you need.”</p><p>“I’m even more hopeless,” I said. “Maybe someday. Not sure I’m the family type, though.”</p><p>Regjar gave a conspiratorial grin. “If by ‘not sure you’re the family type’ you mean you prefer the gentlemen to the ladies, nobody cares about that. You can still get your feet back on the ground and stop sulking.”</p><p>I blinked. “Well. Actually either is fine. Why’m I telling you that anyway? No, what I meant was more… I don’t know. The image of a family…”</p><p>“Oh, come on, how often have we heard that? Let me guess. You’ve been in the army, you’ve done bad things, and now you can never have a normal life again. Forget it. They all come home like that, and then they meet a new sweetheart, and they brighten right up. Or they get to drinking. Too much, I mean, nothing like a good ale. But you know what I mean. Don’t be that type.”</p><p>“Do they? Brighten right up?” Somehow I found that hard to believe. Besides, I had to wonder, from all that talk I was hearing, how many people had returned home here before that. If there’d been so many former warriors among the populace left, and if there hadn’t been that Ayleid fire, we’d have a lot less problems now. “Maybe I ought to try it at that.”</p><p>And the matter was considered settled.</p><p>Not that it’s settled for me.</p><p>Not that I’d even wanted to have that conversation. But at least they mean well, more or less.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I met ‘Theodor’ today, he looked gloomy. I invited him over as usual, but he frowned at me. Made to say something but didn’t. I didn’t press it. He says so much all the time, sometimes sounding like he’s talking more than he thinks he should; if he actually holds a thing back, maybe I ought to give it time.</p><p>What he said eventually was, “Dark mood today. I shouldn’t even be here. But then you’d worry, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“I admit, yeah.”</p><p>“You want to see the Abyss?”</p><p>I raised my fingers in a gesture to give me time to think about how he might have possibly meant that. Could be anything from the murky depths of the human soul to some dark pit in Oblivion. Or something completely mundane like a seedy bar named by someone who thought himself clever. “Oblivion?” I took a guess.</p><p>“No, I’m not taking you to the Isles. It’s too early for that. I’d be giving away too much. No. But let me employ an image again.”</p><p>“Alright.” I couldn’t stop myself from looking around.</p><p>“Nobody’s here,” he said. “So. You remember that ancestor lady I mentioned. Imagine a lady. A proper lady. Not the highest-born but well enough. Not made for war, or so she thought. Imagine that kind of lady gets thrown into the succession wars and the Three Banners War and has to take part in it.”</p><p>I briefly wondered if I was supposed to be the moderately high-born lady in this scenario, but it didn’t quite line up. So I just listened.</p><p>As if he’d been waiting for me to finish my train of thought – and quite possibly, that’s exactly what he was doing – he went on: “Now imagine that lady, knowing who the trustworthy people in her life are, goes to Sheogorath, and he invites her to Oblivion to spar. She fights the creatures of the Shivering Isles, faces down unique threats found only in the deepest darkest recesses of Dementia, and when nothing scares her anymore, she also fights her own fears: Her fellow mortals. She comes out strengthened in magical skill and mind. She then goes on to become a hero of the Ebonheart Pact and a staunch defender of Morrowind, and defeats another Daedric Prince, and marries a politician, and they have a line of descendants, and here we are. Happy end.”</p><p>At least the end of the story was famous enough, if not the middle part for obvious reasons. So his allegorical ancestor and my presumed allegorical stand-in was Diesala Tharn. Why not?</p><p>“So,” I said, “you want me to spar with your creatures? But not in Oblivion?”</p><p>“No, I find that irresponsible,” he said. “Those are creatures of my realm, and they’re under my responsibility.”</p><p>He had a point. “I mean, I agree with you, I think, and I wasn’t asking to…”</p><p>“I know.” He peered at me, through messier-than-usual green hair strands. “I know. You weren’t. And you wouldn’t. No. I don’t do that. And we’re not going to Oblivion. The Abyss is something else. Are you willing to face some nightmares?”</p><p>This all came down to no explanation at all. Which is why, consequently and logically and with all my wits about me, I said, “If you want me to see the Abyss, I’ll go see the Abyss.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Abyss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world and my senses went dark, and when I came to, I stood in a hallway leading downstairs. Like an old ruin, or a mine entrance maybe. Had a blurry quality and the dual, mutually incompatible certainty of where I was as in a dream.</p><p>I went down the mine shaft / ruin entrance.</p><p>It was wandering, and then there were fights.</p><p>Goblins.</p><p>People.</p><p>The undead.</p><p>An Ayleid ghost or two.</p><p>Mercenaries.</p><p>A caricature of an Orc queen sending hordes of my own people at me.</p><p>Townfolk.</p><p>People I’d known in my childhood.</p><p>The Thalmor.</p><p>My old Blades unit.</p><p>The man who’d drawn my tattoo, whose face I barely remember from years gone by and all the drinking I’d done that night, and his face was as blurry now, and yet it made complete sense, and I knew exactly who he was, and also that he was going to cut my tattoo out if I didn’t kill him. So I killed him.</p><p>There was a moment in which I decided this was definitely in my mind. Or something similar to that. Or at the very least that if I went to look for those people, I’d find them intact still.</p><p> </p><p>The scenery changed. Blue-glowing underground with welkyn stones, fog and tumbled-about items like in a ship’s storage after a storm.</p><p> </p><p>A city under siege, but underground as well. And then, fire and endless freedom despite the ashen sky, jagged spires, lava, and this wasn’t Morrowind. Daedra attacking me. I hadn’t seen those before, except for crude illustrations that barely bore any resemblance to these.</p><p>I had to choose my spells more carefully. Fire was laughably obsolete. Ice melted away. Lightning, barely a scratch. I was about to be overcome, but the scenery changed right under me, and I was in an arena. Roaring applause. Hulking brutes in spiked gear staring at me.</p><p>A brighter but otherwise familiar voice with the familiar Nibenese pronunciation but just a little bit more rural, said, “You need to think less elementally. Here’s what I did.”</p><p>There was a red flash, and then the brutes turned to an unseen spot in the distance, and then one lunged at the other, and in the end they all went down. A single especially heavy one was left stumbling with bloody gashes all over him.</p><p>Theodor’s voice said, “<em>Now</em> you can think elementally.”</p><p>I threw an experimental lightning bolt at the lone survivor. He was a survivor no more.</p><p>Roaring applause.</p><p> </p><p>I had a sense I’d just been shown something rare. “Was that real?” I asked. What a strange question to ask under those circumstances, but you don’t think that way in the Abyss.</p><p>“All real,” he said. “The Tamriel Terror. That was the name I picked. Did it all with illusion magic and a bit else besides.”</p><p>I had to grin. “Nice name.”</p><p>“Thank you. Ready? Something else that’s real?”</p><p>I nodded, and the fire and lava and ash were back, but then there was a dome, but still lava to the sides of the path I was on. More Daedra assaulting me. I tried the illusion spells I’d just picked up. Worked. One was left. To be funny, I threw a fireball at him.</p><p>“I know, I know,” said Theodor’s voice, “I did that, too. Now open your hand.”</p><p>I did, and a conjured dagger appeared in it.</p><p>That was enough to take the last one down.</p><p> </p><p>More of the same but up a charred-black spire, cages hung up now, tormented and burnt victims inside, dangling over lava. Now this was different. My mood sobered up. I waited. No one to fight here. Just to witness.</p><p>The lava disappeared. The area turned sombre, dark sky, dark houses, spires still but not hewn out of rock but carefully built. I stood inside, the dagger still in my hand. A tortured prisoner and the prison guard, offering a deal. Take his space, or leave him be.</p><p>Take his space, or…</p><p>I slowly shook my head and stepped away from the prison cell.</p><p>Theodor’s voice joined me again, quietly this time. “I did that, too.”</p><p> </p><p>I stood at the ruin’s/mine’s entrance again, and it looked completely banal now. A cool wind hit me from outside. I turned to the door.</p><p>Theodor stood there, looking his regular Imperial self, like I realised I had come to see as normal. Pursed his lips. “Dark mood today.”</p><p>I nodded. “Been there.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Of course you do.”</p><p>He smiled a little. “You should leave me alone now.”</p><p>“Here? I don’t think so.”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow.</p><p>I’d said it without thinking, but still I couldn’t shake an eerie impression that if I left him in this Abyss now, whatever it was, he wouldn’t come back out and would get lost in it. Drown in it maybe. “What if I don’t want to?”</p><p>“You really should.”</p><p>I shook my head. “Doesn’t have to be ale or mead. I’ve been warned against that just recently. I’ve got… How about tea? And sweetrolls? New baker in town, finally.”</p><p>His lips twitched in apparent amusement. “Tea and sweetrolls? Are you serious?”</p><p>“Why not?” I looked him over. “That’s how you surprise Sheogorath,” I muttered. “Don’t tell me.”</p><p>“Of course not,” he muttered back, with a petulant note. “I know everything.”</p><p>“Then you know those sweetrolls are really good.” I paused. “I know this is a bad one. Just come along.”</p><p>“Are you ordering me around?”</p><p>I paused again. Perhaps the Abyss wasn’t where you ought to have this kind of tense conversation with a Daedric Prince of Madness who had repeatedly confessed to a ‘dark mood’ and warned you away from his presence. But on the other hand, that was exactly when I had to. Right? So I said, “Under normal circumstances I should probably apologise.”</p><p>He waited some beats that seemed endless, then exhaled. “No, I’m of a mind to let you get away with it. Fine. Tea and sweetrolls.”</p><p>And a moment later, we were in my house.</p><p> </p><p>That’s how the day ended. Tea and sweetrolls and low conversation, but he seemed to be calming down.</p><p>When he set out to leave, a vague panic left over from earlier gripped me, and I said, “You’re coming back tomorrow. And after that.”</p><p>“Ordering me around again?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Anything else was superfluous now.</p><p>He laughed at last. “Well then. I’ll be back tomorrow and after that.”</p><p>And vanished.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You know what we need more of in this town? Roosters.</p><p>It’s no good to be alone with my thoughts when I wake up.</p><p>I need a feathered terror to annoy me into starting the day.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s this arrival, Noura, that’s been trying to establish an arena here (again – priorities), and that I’ve done my best to ignore. I’m not a show fighter, and the last thing I need in my situation is fame. The ‘arena’, so far, is a cleared-out circle with trees and some rickety benches around, and a few flags for decoration.</p><p>Today I approached her. After establishing that no, I still wasn’t fighting in the arena, I asked her: “So I’m curious about something. I’ve heard… let’s say conflicting things about an arena fighter. Thought maybe you know something about that. More than soldiers’ rumours.”</p><p>“Oh, an interest in the great ones! That’s how it often starts. Are you talking about Gaiden Shinji?”</p><p>“Even I’ve heard of Gaiden Shinji. But no, the one I’m interested in was called the Tamriel Terror, and somehow… seemed to specialise in Illusion magic. Does that ring a bell?”</p><p>She gave a hearty laugh. “Oh yes, of course it does. You heard that in the City, during your training maybe?”</p><p>“Something like that.” So there was something to it. I was still wondering how I’d have to bribe her to tell me more, but she was happy enough to start talking right away:</p><p>“But if you fight like that here, I’ll kick your ass. This isn’t that kind of arena. I want clean sports, no deaths, no magical trickery like that. You can use your destruction spells, you’re a mage, aren’t you? But that was excessive. Those <em>times</em> were excessive, and so it fit in. Understood?”</p><p>“I mean, understood, but I’m still not fighting. I’m just curious.”</p><p>“Oh, of course.” She winked like she knew better. “So. The first thing you need to know is that for a certain time, that title was used by a lot of warriors. New blood to the arena got assigned one of those names, and new blood died fast. They found it a shame to just throw away all that work on a catchy title after one or two short matches, so…”</p><p>“So there was a steady influx of Tamriel Terrors, huh.” Maybe he’d tricked me with that, I thought. “You say the times were excessive. What times are we talking about?”</p><p>“Around the Oblivion Crisis.”</p><p>“Huh. Bit ago.”</p><p>She smiled. “But the story lives. I’m not surprised it’s got a few different variations in the meantime. Good stories always do. And that one was, above all, entertaining. It’s what endeared the public to him. So this is the version I know: Here comes a scrawny boy from the Imperial City prison, swears he’d been there innocently but anyway he was let go. Had the paperwork for it, too. But suspicion stays, right? So he goes to the arena. Maybe he didn’t find work elsewhere, maybe he had no idea what to do with himself, but why the arena in the end, nobody knows. Little Nibenese mage. Gets the usual choice of titles. Picks the Tamriel Terror, and it’s a joke. Right? You expect him to go down in the first match.”</p><p>“Right.” This was adding up a little too much for comfort.</p><p>“So what does he do? He uses Illusion spells, and some Alteration, and confuses his opponent into attacking a ball of light in the arena. Gets him so mad he keeps chasing that ball of light. In the end he picks him off with a bit of lightning. The crowd loved it, cause after a while, simple bloodshed gets boring, no matter what. He went on like that. If there were several opponents, he got them to finish off each other until all he had to do was the killing blow on the last.”</p><p>“That’s the one I heard,” I said.</p><p>“A few times, it was said he changed the whole perception of the arena around, made opponents think they were drowning in quicksand, or their opponent was something fearful. Daedra even.”</p><p>I snorted. “That sounds…” …like him. But I couldn’t say that. “Entertaining, yeah.”</p><p>“See? I told you before, you need to be able to entertain, and he did. Made it to Arena Champion.”</p><p>“Huh. And what became of him?”</p><p>She smiled again. “You’ve probably heard that one, in the middle of the other confusion. This one is true: He went on to become the Hero of Kvatch and worked with Martin Septim to end the Oblivion Crisis.”</p><p>I nearly choked on the air I was breathing. Damn it all. The lady ancestor. “<em>That</em> was Evidio Tharn, you’re telling me.”</p><p>“Not a doubt about it. The records are clear. He came seemingly out of nowhere, and disappeared into nowhere again after the crisis. Here’s where the stories of what became of him get wild. But all we really know is that after the last battle against Mehrunes Dagon, he went south-east, maybe to go to his home region, or his ancestral seat in Cheydinhal. But he never arrived for all anyone knows. Quite a story, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It is,” I said. “Thanks.”</p><p>And how does it all fit together? I haven’t the faintest idea, except for a really outlandish one.</p><p>A new one on the job.</p><p>Unless it was all a carefully constructed lie. But where would be the point in that?</p><p>Does Sheogorath need a point in the things he does?</p><p>But something tells me he does. At least in this. And he himself said he does.</p><p>My head hurts.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Today when we met, Theodor looked at me like he was cross with me.</p><p>“So,” I said with some apprehension, cause I’ve found this matters by now, “what is it? Have I done something?” It was the asking around about him, I was sure then. Or something else? I was about to apologise.</p><p>But he mustered me, and I kept silent.</p><p>At last, he said, “You’re late.”</p><p>I looked at the sky, thought of the time, decided it wasn’t going to be something as banal as the time of day. “Alright, what am I late for?”</p><p>“Existing.”</p><p>After a few moments’ pause on both our parts, he said, “So, do you want to see the Shivering Isles?”</p><p> </p><p>There probably are words for this, but I’m not finding them.</p><p>As to be expected, we went to Mania. Assuming for the sake of the argument that ‘expected’ and ‘Sheogorath’ are concepts that go together. Which I’ve found they actually do.</p><p>Moving along.</p><p>The sky. There’s nothing on either plane as striking as the night sky over Mania. The colours. The light. I could have just stood there in the middle of nature forever taking it in, and that doesn’t happen often.</p><p>“I’m the same way,” he said beside me. “When I’ve been gone, and come back, I stand here and… absorb.”</p><p>“So the colours weren’t your doing?” I asked. “Wouldn’t have been surprised if they were. They suit you.”</p><p>He smiled. “You’ve been digging.”</p><p>“I’m an agent. And you’re actually of a personal interest. It was something I had to…” What was I saying here anyway? “But I didn’t ask, and – well, I’m sorry.”</p><p>He smiled at me. Bright blue eyes turned to bright yellow.</p><p>“So which ones are real? The blue, right?”</p><p>“And why do you assume there’s such a thing as ‘real’, or one more real than the other?”</p><p>“Why would you show me one set over the other? If it didn’t matter. And you could have shown my friend the expected, too, if it didn’t matter. Would have been easier.”</p><p>“So you’ve got me. And I dropped barely a hint.” His smile was inscrutable. His eyes were still yellow.</p><p>“Is it true then? Evidio Tharn?”</p><p>“It’s true. In a way. That persona has ceased to matter. I’m Sheogorath now.”</p><p>“Persona? Isn’t that a bit…harsh? And… So did you actually take over? Were you a mortal from the start, and… How?”</p><p>“Let’s sit down,” he said, and led us to a bench in the middle of a mushroom landscape.</p><p>Once we were sitting, he turned to me with those yellow eyes. “You’ve heard the story. Why ‘persona’? Why did I do it? For the same reason I joined the arena. I felt empty. There was nothing complete there, and nothing to live for. Nothing to call my own or fight for on a personal level. That can be a way to live one’s life. And indeed it makes it easier to risk your life over and over to save Tamriel. In that, I was well-suited for the task at hand. And when it was over, my one friend was dead, and nobody else would miss me except in my function as someone who might save Tamriel once again if needed. But not as me. And I realised, I would not miss me either. And so when I got the invitation for the Shivering Isles, I accepted, and it was something new. Something to give me purpose. Something to fill the void. The apprenticeship wasn’t easy, but it was perhaps the first time in my life that I felt alive.”</p><p>“By apprenticeship you mean…”</p><p>“Being Sheogorath. There was another before me. To cut this extremely short – I can give you the longer version another day if you care – his problem was that he was, in truth, Jyggalag, the Prince of Order, and Sheogorath was a curse. Once in a while, he turned back to his original self, destroyed his realm, and then had to start over. I was there to take the spot of Sheogorath permanently, and I did. And now that’s me, and he is Jyggalag, and we stay out of each other’s way.”</p><p>I took that in. Didn’t have anything intelligent to say at the moment, so I stayed silent, and so did he.</p><p>At last, I said, “You didn’t turn to another look over here. At first I thought you might. I liked that you didn’t.”</p><p>“Those that survived the incident have seen me go through the apprenticeship. They know what I look like. Those who came afterwards have known only me.”</p><p>I nodded. “That’s good. Then why do you still put the other aspect on on Nirn?”</p><p>“Habit for mortals.”</p><p>“Huh. See, I learned – in my surely terribly inaccurate teachings – that the mark of a Daedric Prince was that he wouldn’t sacrifice himself for Nirn or for mortals. He was himself and his realm sprang from him, and that was permanent.”</p><p>“Ah, but I wasn’t there for that,” he said. “I came in later. The first Sheogorath came in later, already, and me, I came in after that. Besides… Sheogorath has always been different. Mortal simplifications aside. They’re not fully inaccurate, but things are different here. Sheogorath and your Lorkhan have a… kind of existential familial relationship that I can’t quite explain; it’s complicated. So I feel as if I’m not fully excused from the sacrifice for Nirn kind of approach.” He cocked his head. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. Talking to you is good.”</p><p>Silence again, while I processed that. At last, I had to say something. “I know I appreciate that from him, and you… Well, you’re a very decent person, too, and I like that, too, but I’d like you to be yourself anyway. And this sounds incredibly flat if I say it like that. Let me try again.”</p><p>He smiled. “I appreciate that.”</p><p>“What did he do to you anyway? You mentioned not holding a grudge before.”</p><p>“Ah, that.” He looked ponderous for a moment, then went on: “My family had a tradition of following Lorkhan. Started with my ancestor Diesala. The one I mentioned. She was on familial terms with my predecessor, but worshipped Lorkhan. She decided this on her own. The tradition was passed down, like in your family. I thought nothing of it. I wasn’t the most devout person, but I also didn’t call it into question, and while I was here, I only knew at the very end what was happening, and then I accepted it.” He ran his hand through his hair. “After I ascended, if you will, and gained a lot of knowledge, I found out I’d been traded in years earlier. Lorkhan gave me to Sheogorath – my predecessor – in return for two mortals that Sheogorath had a contract with before. One was his champion, who was actually supposed to take his spot – now my spot – but would apparently have been miserable, and so it was decided he was to be spared. The other was a former god. So as you see, important people, and two against one. I was flattered with that, but in the end it doesn’t matter. I was traded in because I was deemed less important, and was liked less. And what Lorkhan’s few followers like about him is his very favouritism. I didn’t have it after all. And so here I am.” He exhaled. “But I gained something, if something somewhat extreme to fill a void. And something rather permanent.” He set his jaw and looked straight ahead. I thought I saw him blink more rapidly.</p><p>I was wondering what to say about it, how to offer comfort or understanding or advice or anything of actual use.</p><p>I didn’t get to, though, because there was a breeze, and the air flickered, and in the shimmering light, a ghostly snake uncoiled, and stood up, and transformed, and went solid, and then in front of us stood someone looking like a very tall and lanky wood elf with long dark hair in a ponytail and a pointy beard.</p><p>Evidio frowned. “You. How are <em>you</em> here?”</p><p> </p><p>“See,” the mer said, and then turned to me, nodded at me in a gesture of mock formality, and turned back to Evidio. “See, the issue is this. I may have given the <em>impression</em>, in a few casual conversations and some dealings with others, that I’d traded you in. It sounds fair, right?”</p><p>“Wait a moment,” I said before thinking straight. You aren’t supposed to interrupt what’s presumably your god, but I couldn’t help it. “Are you saying you’re Lorkhan?”</p><p>He flashed me a smile. “At your service. And I know who you are, don’t worry. But it’s time to clarify a thing here.”</p><p>“Right,” I said, completely out of my depth and accordingly numb. “You go ahead.”</p><p>Another smile, and he turned back to Evidio, who was visibly holding on to his diminishing patience.</p><p>“So,” said Lorkhan, “while I might’ve given that impression in conversations in which my word about that wasn’t binding, you <em>do</em> know how the <em>actual</em> talk went with your predecessor, don’t you?”</p><p>Evidio’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“The thing is that yes, I permitted you to become Sheogorath as the new permanent Daedric Prince, with the realm, with the functions, with everything, and neither Jyggalag nor anyone else ever has to take that spot again. It’s yours. No problem. And I traded that in for the souls and the deals of those two, yeah. Well-known.” His eyes narrowed in a smile, and he deepened his voice. “But at no point did I ever agree to let you go.”</p><p>At this point I was just watching from the side-lines and processing what it was this had turned to, and what kind of world I had walked into.</p><p> </p><p>“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Evidio. Then he got up, stood in front of the taller god. “Then what is this? You want the Shivering Isles as your vassal state? And that’s why you’re here?”</p><p>“They’re yours.”</p><p>“And I’m supposed to be yours, so they’re yours ultimately.”</p><p>Lorkhan shrugged. “They’re beautiful, and I like what you’re doing with the place, especially half of it, though I was expecting more originality. You’re still one of mine, after all. And your Dunmer friend is right. Isn’t the realm supposed to spring from you, and not you be smothered by the realm? Dare a little. But ultimately, my concern is Nirn. And Sovngarde. That, too. Still… You and I ought to be family.”</p><p>Evidio let out an exasperated sigh. “You never said anything about family in all those years. You never said anything at all in all those years.”</p><p>“I couldn’t. That’s not how this works. My followers have free will anyway. And you stepped up from that. You’re a Daedric Prince now. We’re related. I can’t just give you commands, or I won’t. You had to signal it yourself. Which you just did. You signalled to your friend that you didn’t want to be traded in. That was my cue.”</p><p>The Mad God shook his head like he was the only sane person in the area. Then he looked down and exhaled. “I never did say anything in all those years either, did I? Well, of course not. No one to talk to. Not like that. The rest are vassals that expect me to be Sheogorath and live up to… No, maybe it’s time to cut that out.” He looked up at Lorkhan. “You talk about free will. If this is about me, and my realm, what if I said I wanted to secede again?”</p><p>“Then we’d sever.” Didn’t know a roguish-looking god could put so much sadness into a simple line like that.</p><p>Evidio turned to me. “What do <em>you</em> say?”</p><p>“Me?”</p><p>He didn’t explain himself. Just waited. Lorkhan was trying not to grin, I could see.</p><p>Me. Fine. Sort my thoughts. Start somewhere.</p><p>“Well, I’ve got no intention of converting,” I said. “So, a vassal state should be possible to visit from an afterlife, provided that’s in it for me…”</p><p>Evidio broke into a radiant smile. “Well.”</p><p>“But that’s selfish nonsense, don’t listen to that. Now, for you… I mean, peace and family are good things, aren’t they? I’d demand creative freedom for yourself. But also… The way he’s talking, that seems to be what he wants anyway. And besides, if you accept that offer, and you’re one of his people still, you’ve got no excuse not to be yourself and defend that.”</p><p>He listened seriously.</p><p>I added, “But that’s another completely selfish thing from me.”</p><p>There was that smile again. “Well. Well.” He turned to Lorkhan, who seemed caught between widening grin and a certain tension.</p><p>Evidio mustered him. “I ought to tell you to leave, and that I had to think about it. And then I ought to think about it.” Then smiled. “But we’re not in Jyggalag’s realm here anymore, are we?”</p><p>Lorkhan held out his hand. “Family?”</p><p>Evidio raised his hand but let it hover in the air. “You know, you <em>can</em> consult your allies when you’re planning something like this.”</p><p>“I could’ve handled that better, yeah,” said Lorkhan. “Too many plates, wasn’t used to it anymore. Didn’t want a disaster like that one time.” Looked to me. “And you? Do I have to consider you two as a sort of package deal? Well, we can do that.”</p><p>It’s easy to feel so outside of such things that when the attention is on you, it’s disconcerting. And I was probably looking at least a bit put on the spot and embarrassed. Trying to pry apart meanings in my head, trying to silence pesky indistinct hopes for words meaning more than they could at present. I still had to say something. “Yeah, I’m in,” I said, voice hoarse, trying not to let too many of my thoughts show. </p><p>With a smile, Lorkhan resumed holding out his hand to Evidio. “Family?”</p><p>Evidio looked to me with a smile and bit his lip and turned back to Lorkhan. Shook his hand. “Family. You really can’t lose, can you?”</p><p>“Not my favourites.”</p><p>Evidio was blinking rapidly again, definitely this time. May have even seen a few tears that escaped.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation settled down between the three of us, there were more proper introductions and pleasantries and promises, and eventually temporary goodbyes as Lorkhan left us behind to go wherever he goes.</p><p>“Well,” said Evidio, “you seem to believe in not letting a day end on the momentous note.”</p><p>“I’ve trouble sleeping,” I said. “Need the time after that.”</p><p>“Me, too. Always did. Will you forgive me for not showing you Dementia today? It would not only spoil the mood, but I also suspect I will have some restructuring to do there. Long overdue.”</p><p>I nodded. “Completely understood. But that said, you <em>can</em> show me. I get it. I’ve seen things, too. Allowed things to happen.”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>I pushed on a bit. “In the vision. In the Abyss. The part that wasn’t the Deadlands. That was Dementia, wasn’t it?”</p><p>He nodded again. “It was during my apprenticeship. I still feel to this day that I failed there, and yet I still know I couldn’t change my choice even now.”</p><p>“I’d be the same way.”</p><p>“I know.” He looked somewhere at the horizon. Then looked at me, smiled and turned his eyes to the light blue I was more accustomed to. “Better?”</p><p>I smiled. “Whichever is you is best.”</p><p>“Then this. Say. You must be hungry. Theology always makes me hungry. How about if I take you to an inn? Here, I mean.”</p><p>“That sounds fantastic,” I said. “If the mead is anything to go by… Not that it’d matter; I’d say yes even to a Dementia dinner.”</p><p>“Be careful what you promise now.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Work is slow, and I was forbidden from levitating anything anymore for now; not because it’s forbidden anyway, but because I keep crashing things into construction sites and causing more destruction than help. Can’t concentrate. Can’t concentrate worth a damn.</p><p> </p><p>Side note: Recently witnessed inter-divine exchanges have confirmed to me that he does in fact <em>not</em> know everything.</p><p>That’s a comforting thought.</p><p>However, he knows <em>almost</em> everything. And there’s no shame in losing against Lorkhan.</p><p>Chances are he wouldn’t lose against anyone else. Such as a mortal, for example. Such as me, for example.</p><p>Not such a comforting thought.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We met up again. Went to Mania again cause why in Oblivion not? It’s convenient and pretty. (What has my life become? Fuck if I care.)</p><p>We went to a different inn for dinner and to talk, a fancier one cause it’s earlier and we both had more energy. And he was in a story-telling mood. No wonder – he’d just been on a social visit to Sovngarde. Turns out that goes both ways now, with the mutual access to each other’s realms. Advantages of vassal states.</p><p> </p><p>He met some of his ancestors, which doesn’t count quite as much for an Imperial as for a Dark Elf, but for a Nibenese Imperial and a Tharn to that, it’s still significant enough. Turns out he got mostly the lucky end of that stick, too, what Tharn family branches go, I mean. Less notable except for the first few that started the line, but friendlier for that.</p><p>So he sat there across from me twirling his unused spoon in his hand talking about that. Said he met Diesala and Abnur, too: “They treated me as if there were no generations between us and I was one more of their children. And imagine this, they knew what was going on with the deal, but didn’t tell anyone else. No one. How do you… But for Lorkhan, if he was going to tell one, the only option was to tell both of them, because once one of them knows, the other knows anyway, because they have a telepathic link. I asked if it was a conjuration accident or a side effect of Psijic magic, and they said no, they’d read about these cases existing, and decided this was a good idea they should try to reproduce. I said it’s no wonder it’s come to this with me, with this ancestry. They weren’t angry, instead amused. My regular parents would have slapped me for that. Abnur instead said, ‘We’ve done something right here.’ And I didn’t know what to say, so I said I’d made the right decision. And because that’s all a bit much emotion at once for Nibenese nobility, it was then decided I needed to understand wine, and so… But I’m rambling, aren’t I?”</p><p>I noticed my face hurt from smiling. Never got much in the way of practice.</p><p>He also met <em>my</em> ancestors, Elam and Tedare, and it’s a real relief to know they made it there and weren’t trapped in some void after all or worse. At first he wouldn’t come out with what he’d talked to them about, but at last admitted he’d echoed Abnur and told them they’d done something right there, but couldn’t they have had children earlier instead of enjoying life on their own for quite so long?</p><p>And then he fell quiet again.</p><p>I pressed him, and eventually he said, “Well, Elam started by saying I’d better be careful. And Tedare said, I’d better not mess this up, because Daedric Prince or no, daggers find their targets eventually.” He gave me a radiant smile. “So I think they like you.”</p><p>I’m never going to be allowed to levitate anything ever again.</p><p>“That’s good,” I said eventually. “Ancestor approval is important. And those two, I almost feel as if I knew them personally, after all those letters. Would like to meet them someday.”</p><p>“Oh they said that,” Evidio said. “They said, ‘Bring him over when it’s time.’ and ‘Whether home or on regular visits is all the same. Or perhaps there won’t be much of a difference then. But that’s for you and our boss to sort out.’”</p><p>I was still smiling. “How do you feel about that anyway? Did you meet ‘their boss’?”</p><p>“I did. He was the first one I met.” He looked at the table, then back up. “He actually hugged me and said he should have done that last time. And said we’d sort out whatever I needed sorting out and that he… I quote, ‘has a good deal of flexibility on the details’, now that he’s got me. And that he’s glad this is sorted out, and he’s starting to have his hands full with another crisis, and it may affect Sovngarde, so if it came to that, would I be willing to temporarily host refugees if there was the need for that?”</p><p>He laughed. “I can’t even be mad at him. That’s the big problem, few people can, and the few that can are stubborn, vengeful and unjust. But for all his trickery and thinking ahead around so many corners, you know he cares sincerely. And somehow that ends up making it all alright. I suppose that’s family for you. Oh listen to me getting all sappy, and I couldn’t even take you along.” He frowned. “I feel bad about that. I asked, you know. Lorkhan said it’s sometimes and very rarely done, for a living mortal, and he might make an exception in peaceful times, but he fears what’s ahead are not peaceful times, and he wants you out of that. But he’s currently evaluating a distant cousin of mine for the task because, and I quote again, ‘your family line is just too good. I just need Akatosh in on this.’ I…” Evidio dropped his hands to the table in a show of defeat. “I’ve given up. In for a bean, in for a beanstalk. So we may have refugees from Sovngarde over sometime.”</p><p>I raised an eyebrow. “We?”</p><p>“Well.” He looked to the side. There was nothing of interest there, but he did anyway.</p><p>“I like that.”</p><p>He turned back to me, and his blue eyes narrowed with his smile. Didn’t say anything.</p><p>Neither did I.</p><p>“So,” he picked up the conversation at last, “so at my ancestors’ urging, I’m coming to understand wine a little better, and I’m starting to have additions made here. Care to try? I do have to warn you. This is the first stage of creation, and errors and the unexpected can occur, and we <em>are</em>, after all, on the Shivering Isles.” He leaned forward. “Do you dare anyway?”</p><p>I leaned towards him, as well, apprehensive and not prone to this style of conversation, but I did. “I dare.”</p><p> </p><p>Didn’t regret it.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So I finally relented and met that Bloodfall Queen. I had to bite my metaphorical tongue a whole lot during this conversation. Years of training with the Blades for the less heroic parts of things weren’t for nothing after all.</p><p>She kept making excuses for why our town is now dust and most of our people dead. First she blamed it on the followers being no good these days and said her grandfather still had loyal subjects. Right. Like people suddenly collectively go bad within a generation or two. And perhaps one <em>could</em> consider that previously, one had an actual war against the Dominion to fight, while that was still an option. And now, what does she want to press people into service for? Skirmishes against rival thug gangs. Not the least bit of self-awareness or awareness of the situation and the people. And that calls herself a monarch. Pathetic. Why are we putting up with this again? Right, a thin-as-spiderwebs veil of pretence at cohesion against the Thalmor. And just as sticky and disgusting, too.</p><p>Then she brought the old story that she just wanted to extort money (she didn’t say ‘extort’, but if she wanted to play the honest thug with an honest apology, she should have), but she didn’t order the statue destroyed, and didn’t want the fire to happen.</p><p>And apologised. After all those excuses, she had the gall to apologise as if it was a noble straightforward gesture.</p><p>And what did I do? Lied through my teeth and said I accepted the apology, because that’s what you do when you’re in the middle of an enemy stronghold and about to be cut to shreds otherwise.</p><p>Now she wants help from our town against those rival thugs of hers.</p><p>Years of Blades training. Years. And so I didn’t throw any fire nor lightning at her.</p><p>You know, I wonder if my ancestors’ old organisation is still in business. Haven’t heard of them in a while, and apparently things have been going badly there. But you know…</p><p>I hate fucking everything about this.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This happened:</p><p>I met Evidio, earlier in the day than normal. He told me that he wanted to come to my house, and I saw the seriousness of his expression and still got a fluttery feeling at his words, that’s how far gone it was with me already. I’d have said I needed to watch myself, if only I'd had any inclination to.</p><p>But anyway. I knew it was something graver than what I was wishing it was.</p><p> </p><p>So we went to my house, empty at the time of day.</p><p>Evidio said, “I wish we had more time to build up trust and get to know each other – most of all for you to get to know me better, because this won’t be an easy decision – but that’s never how it goes in life. I have a proposition, and I strongly advise you to take it.”</p><p>“Well,” I said, “I do trust you. So I’m inclined to take any advice from you.” Gave him a smile. “Maybe that’s not something I ought to tell you, but you probably know it anyway.”</p><p>He returned the smile, and there was a spark in his eyes for a moment, and then he turned tense and serious again. “In that case. If I played by the rules, I wouldn’t be supposed to do this. But I don't, and that’s generally known. And I’m not watching disaster unfold and saving unknown people while leaving you in danger. Not you. As long as you agree with me, and we can do this my way. This is the situation: Your hiding place won’t be that for much longer. So I advise you to pack your belongings, any that hint at your presence or identity, and leave. And I strongly advise you to come with me.”</p><p>“To the Shivering Isles?”</p><p>“Yes. We can see about details later. Perhaps you want to stay a mortal for now and return to Nirn someday for further work, but if you say you’re done here and want to stay with me… Well, in that case I can change your nature to match ours right away, and we don’t have to worry about that anymore.”</p><p>The leaving part is part of the life of any agent, and something they have to be prepared for. It can happen at any time. And it always is leaving. Suicide, for those who’d consider that, is not a sensible option with highly magically skilled opponents that don’t shy away from much and certainly won’t shy away from necromancy either. Once you’ve assembled certain secrets, your duty is to carry them with you and not have them endanger everyone else.</p><p>What I was not prepared for was talk about changing of natures to, I presumed, something Daedric.</p><p>But he had to know that, and making the suggestion anyway had to mean things were truly serious.</p><p>“So the Thalmor found me?” I asked.</p><p>“Not yet, but they’re on the trail of someone, and sooner or later they will find out who that someone is.”</p><p>“Alright. Then staying any longer would be irresponsible. Alright.” I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to think. “Alright. I hate to do this like this. But I ought to ask. See…” It really isn’t all that easy. “So I care a lot about you. You probably know already. More than… Damn it. If I go with you, and stay, and get myself stuck there. With all I’m… With all I’m feeling. Damn it, this is hard. Will I regret that?”</p><p>I got a melting smile from him. “You won’t regret it. I promise you that. I’m in the same predicament about you.”</p><p>I had to smile back then. “Alright then. I suppose details can wait until we’re safe there…” I looked around. Not much there that was mine. I got out my bags and packed what there was, and the few personal belongings I’d salvaged from my parents’ house besides. Packed the journal, too, of course. Nothing as volatile as that.</p><p>Went through the house a few more times to check and be sure.</p><p>Wanted to write a goodbye note but couldn’t.</p><p>Then I made sure my house key was hanging on its hook like the sole owner would hang it.</p><p>“Ready,” I said.</p><p>Evidio opened a portal, of the type that looked familiar by now, and we left.</p><p>That’s it.</p><p> </p><p>He suggested we put my journal into a safe vault in his private place for now, just to be absolutely sure, and I’d start a new one.</p><p>I’ll do that. Just wrapping this up. Feels right this way, you know. After this entry, it’s going in the vault.</p><p> </p><p>While we walked to his residence, on a dark and foggy path under a moody sky, I asked him, “I’ve been wondering about something. That first story you told me about your ancestor sending you to help me. That didn’t happen, did it?”</p><p>He smiled, like he often does when I’ve figured something out. “No, it didn’t. The other day in Sovngarde was the first time I met her. That first story really was just an image. A story put together by what I knew about her, and my own wonderings on what I should do, and the decision I came to. For what would be right. And perhaps, as a justification to want to help out that intriguing Dark Elf I’d spotted.”</p><p>I grinned at that. “Wasn’t that only supposed to be in two, three hundred years?”</p><p>“For a majority, by a certain prediction. I always know more. I saw you, and…” He didn’t finish the thought. Didn’t have to. “By the way, you would be foregoing that phase of popularity that you might get otherwise – if you stayed alive, that is, of course. Are you sure you want to stay?” His smile was mischievous, but his eyes watchful.</p><p>How to phrase this carefully so early on? <em>Was</em> there a way to phrase this carefully so early on? By Oblivion, I was bad at these things. I tried anyway. “I’m sure I want to stay <em>only</em> if it can be… just us, you know? Don’t want anything else. Don’t want you to want anything else either.”</p><p>“Then that’s what you get.” There was real happiness in his voice, and a new tone. He stepped closer, reached out and tangled his fingers in my hair.</p><p>I’ll confess it was getting difficult to breathe. But didn’t matter, just as long as he didn’t stop.</p><p>“So,” I tried, “good. Then…” Under his watchful eyes I took a few shallow breaths. “I’m staying. Make it permanent. Work your magic.”</p><p>“Oh yes, I will,” he whispered and leaned for a kiss. He hadn’t promised too much.</p><p>I pulled him closer. Couldn’t let him go again; with all I’d felt all this time, and now I could actually hold him close to me.</p><p>He finally looked at me with half-lidded eyes. “You’re staying?”</p><p>“I’m staying. You’re never getting rid of me.”</p><p>That earned me a bright smile. “Good.” He took my hand, and I found I liked it, unfamiliar as it was.</p><p> </p><p>We went a few steps further on the coiling path between thorny bushes and trees.</p><p>Eventually, he stood again. I took it as a signal to kiss him again, and he sighed and leaned in, and I already know I’ll never get enough of him. This will be my undoing.</p><p>He smiled eventually and said, “I was going to ask you something, but this is good, too.”</p><p>I grinned. “I can listen.”</p><p>“Now, this is only a suggestion, and this isn’t why you’re here. I promise you that. Only… If you’re interested in a project of a sort. Along with me.” He looked out over the landscape, with the dark spires of town patches and the city in the background. “You happen to have some experience organising the rebuilding of settlements. And I’ve mentioned this region could use a bit of restructuring. And,” his smile turned sly, “you’re the gloomy type. Which, of course, I find infinitely attractive. Which, in turn, makes you uniquely suited for this. And there’s a Dukedom in it for you, too. What do you say?”</p><p>Like I could refuse that.</p>
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